Beyond The Pale
by Spinereader
Summary: Harry learns why being alone in a room with a friend of Dudley's is a VERY bad idea. Contains slash, with Piers of all people! Rated for language.


**Title:** Beyond the Pale  
**Disclaimer:** The characters you see before you, and the world they inhabit, are owned by J.K Rowling and her brilliant mind. I just play with them for free and try to keep them true to their canon personalities. I eventually fail with Harry, who screws up my romantic pacing, but at least I try!  
**Summary:** Harry learns why being alone in a room with a friend of Dudley's is a VERY bad idea.  
**Pairing:** Harry/Piers**  
Author's Note:** Okay, I confess. I used a bit, or shall I say a lot, of creative license in regards to Piers Polkiss. We know so little about him that I had to, but I don't know how wisely I used this power. I should hope that even though he's not as canon as he should be, he's at least well characterised and realistic. If you believe otherwise, please speak out, as I'm somewhat blind to my characterisation weaknesses and am always looking to improve my writing.

This is set between Order of The Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince so it's obviously not compatible with the latter. But given the crack pairing and the fact that this was written way back in November 2004, that's inevitable.

* * *

Harry was exhausted. Dudley had members of his gang ("Dudley's dear little friends," to quote Aunt Petunia) coming over in an hour, and his aunt had insisted the house be spotless. Not surprisingly, the job was assigned to Harry. 

"You _will_ be out of sight when they come over, won't you?" whined Dudley for the millionth time. The boy was currently lounged out on the sofa, watching television and stuffing his face with carrot sticks doused in ranch dressing. Something told Harry Dudley didn't comprehend the word 'diet'.

"Trust me, the second I spot one of your cronies, I am gone. I don't want to be around your mates anymore than you want me around them."

"You better not be," threatened Dudley, waving a carrot menacingly at Harry.

Sighing, Harry gathered up the mountain of soda cans from the end table, tossing them into a trash bag. One would think a boy of sixteen would know how to clean up after himself. But of course, this was Dudley, the exception to every norm.

A ring suddenly sounded from the sofa and Dudley felt the spaces between the cushions for the phone. Harry rolled his eyes: he was so slovenly.

"Oy, how's it goin' mate?" Dudley shouted over the roar of the television as he picked up the phone, searching madly for the remote simultaneously. Knowing this could take hours, Harry walked over to the tele and turned it off himself.

"Fuck your Grandmother's funeral, that's not worth missing this for!" he exclaimed to the boy on the other end. Harry just shook his head. Phone conversations were so much more…colourful when neither of Dudley's parents was home.

As Harry was less than interested in hearing Dudley's rants, he took the bag of cans to the kitchen, making himself scarce.

The clock on the microwave said 4.10. There was still a little under an hour until Dudley's mates (minus one apparently), came over. Oh yes, and his girlfriend. Harry still couldn't understand how someone like Dudley could attract anyone, and was very eager to meet the unlucky girl he was seeing.

Since Aunt Petunia would want Harry to be scarce when she came back from the grocery store and Harry couldn't stand being in the den at the moment, it made finding busy work a bit hard. Harry would've gladly given up on it all and gone out in the backyard to read in peace, but his aunt and uncle had demanded he work, and Harry liked to avoid a fight whenever possible.

"Why's she have to be such a good housekeeper," Harry groused, staring about the spotless kitchen for something to do.

Something caused the boy to check in the dishwasher, and thankfully, it was full of clean dishes.

As Harry finished emptying everything out, he heard the unmistakable sound of a car in the driveway: Aunt Petunia was back. Anticipating what was expected, Harry ventured outside (well, as far as the kitchen doorway) to help carry everything in.

Without a word to him, Aunt Petunia loaded Harry down with six bags; the heaviest ones, he guessed. Thankfully, they were plastic so they had handles to make it easier. He hurried into the house as fast as he could before said handles gave under the weight of the items inside. As he entered the kitchen, Dudley was still cursing a blue streak in the den, not having heard his mother's car, apparently. Harry saw no reason to enlighten him. After all, what would be the fun in that?

"Oh bloody hell Mal, the bitch'll still be a stiff in a matchbox when they throw her in the ground tomorrow! Why go and stare at her coffin tonight?" Dudley was asking his friend in his oh so tactful manner.

A pause as the boy on the other end of the line spoke, then, "Shit, who gives a fuck about family?"

"Dudley Evans Dursley, tell me I did NOT just hear you using that kind of language!" his mother shrieked as she stepped in the doorway. It was a nice change from the sugar-  
coated parenting she usually did. Harry found it hard to stop himself from beaming.

"Uh, no Mum, it must have been the tele," Dudley lied, quickly turning the TV back on the second she hit the doorway.

Aunt Petunia returned to the kitchen, plopping the bags on the table, still sour-faced.

"Yes, well, it better have been, you know how I feel about naughty language like that," she warned. Even though Harry couldn't see Dudley from where he stood, he knew he was rolling his eyes.

In silence, Harry and his aunt unpacked the bags. Assuming he would be cooking the dinner as he often did lately, he started to pull out a cookbook. Aunt Petunia swatted his hand away.

"You don't need it, you're cooking hamburgers on the grill tonight."

A cookout; with the sky looking like it could rain at any minute. Harry decided not to point out the idiocy of following through with this plan. Instead, he posed, "So how many people are coming over?"

"Three," replied Dudley glumly as he stepped into the room. "Malcolm can't make it."

"So that means I should cook about…fifteen hamburgers," Harry quipped. Dudley shot him a deadly look.

"_He's_ going to be finished by the time they're here, isn't he?" pointedly asked Dudley.

Petunia flew into action, loading Harry up with every hamburger related product under the sun, including the hamburgers themselves.

"Oh no baby, I won't let him ruin your evening with your little friends. I want this to be special for you," Petunia cooed, rather sickeningly. "The only reason he'll be there in the first place is because your father is at that hardware convention, you refuse to have me anywhere near your friends, and I'm not making you slave over that hot grill and miss all the fun."

"He better stay out of sight all night," Dudley groused, shooting Harry another look. "Piers is staying the night, remember?"

Oh, Lord no! Harry couldn't have heard right, could he?

Dudley continued. "And Mona would be staying too if someone would trust me!"

"Most certainly not," insisted Petunia, positioning three soda jugs precariously under Harry's chin. "I don't want anything…unbecoming taking place between you two. You are a gentleman, and are to remain that way."

Dudley? _A gentleman_? Harry had to rush out of the house quickly to avoid bursting into a fit of laughter and sending everything he carried tumbling.

Humming to forget the horrors that would transpire in just an hour, Harry got the grill working and laid out the patties. He had, by some miracle, come to like cooking, if only on an open flame. It took his mind off of…last spring.

Sometime along the way, Dudley came out of the house, toting an ice filled cooler and regarding Harry with an expression that clearly said 'you _will_ leave soon, won't you?'

Harry answered the silent question.

"Yes Dudley, I'll be done soon. But if you want me gone sooner you could take over watching the hamburgers while I set everything out."

Dudley seemed to debate this in his mind. After all, it was work. But on the other hand, Harry would be gone before his friends arrived.

"Fine, but do it quickly," grumbled Dudley.

Harry grinned, grabbing bags of crisps. No matter how small the battles, they were always fun to win.

The rustling of footsteps came from the side of the yard some time later.

"You have such lovely roses, Mrs. Dursley," a thin feminine voice with adenoid problems was saying.

Immediately, Dudley stiffened, shooting a furtive glance at Harry. It was painfully obvious who this girl was with a reaction like that.

Since Harry was dying to know what any love interest of Dudley's could possibly look like, he took his time removing the plastic wrap from the potato salad, pretending he hadn't picked up Dudley's hint.

"Oh hello, Diddykins! I was just getting to know Mona here!" Petunia's sunny smile faltered a bit when she spotted Harry still there, but she managed to hide it.

"_Diddykins_? That's such a darling nickname!" swooned Mona. There was a note of sarcasm in her voice that everyone but Aunt Petunia picked up.

Here she was, the famous Mona in person! She really wasn't a prize. To Harry she looked like a very ruddy string bean with lanky brown hair, saggy eyes and multi-coloured brackets on her teeth. When she walked over to Dudley and pecked him on the cheek, Harry noticed she was a good head taller than he was.

_It's like that rhyme but in reverse_, Harry thought to himself. _Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean._

Mona nodded in the general direction of Harry.

"Who's he, yet another one of those street rats you associate with?"

What was this, she didn't approve of Dudley's friends? This pair wouldn't last until next semester, which wasn't saying much, as it started in two weeks.

"That's just Harry, my stupid cousin. I certainly don't consider him a friend," sneered Dudley.

Harry feigned cheeriness.

"Dudley, you really are too much! You'd better go easy on the flattery, you may just give me a swelled head!"

Harry's aunt shot daggers at him and Dudley just stared at him, annoyed.

"Yeah, as if anyone could notice the difference," he scoffed.

"You know, that was almost in the neighbourhood of witty! Well, within a few blocks of it at least," Harry remarked, smirking.

"Harry, don't you need to get another bag of ice from the kitchen?" asked an outwardly jolly Petunia through gritted teeth.

"Oh no, we have plenty in the cooler." Harry said, smiling at her placidly. He'd planned to leave the second the guests came, but annoying his family was an opportunity much too fun to pass up.

Petunia wouldn't let it go.

"Well one can never have too much, I really think you should see if we have more."

"Yes, and why don't you go with her?" Dudley was none too tactful when he threw this out at his mother.

Petunia looked slightly hurt, but she certainly didn't want her baby to be unhappy.

"If you don't want anything to do with your dear mother, I can respect that. It may break my heart…but I can still respect it."

Martyr face in place she walked back to the house, milking it for all she could.

When his mother was out of earshot, Dudley sighed dramatically, turning to Mona.

"She can be SO annoying!"

"Yes, I certainly agree," concurred Harry, smiling another placid smile.

"Why don't you go piss off, no one wants you here," Dudley barked.

"Oh tell me what you really think Diddydums, no reason to hide your feelings."

Dudley's lip curled at the nickname.

"Do not EVER call me that!"

Mona hid a snicker behind her hand but Dudley noticed, spinning around to glare at her.

"Oy, Big D!" called out a friend of Dudley's coming out through the back door. He was a squat, spotty-faced boy with a buzz cut, wearing clothes three other people could fit in.

"Great, he's seen you," grumbled Dudley, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "Make up an excuse and leave, soon!"

When he spoke to his mate, Dudley's voice was far different.

"Gordy! So good to see you again!"

"You too mate!" He nodded in Harry's direction. "What's the freak doin' here?"

"Leaving," said Dudley predictably.

Harry set a pile of napkins on the table and put a brick on top.

"Have fun everyone. And if lightening comes, be sure to stand on the table holding something metal."

He shot back a humourless smile at the group and strode back to the house. Since everything in the spring, Harry had become far more sardonic, resentful of how his life was going and wounded by his Godfather's death. Though he didn't dwell on it, he couldn't help feeling like he'd gotten a rotten deal in life. Thank God for his friends and Hogwarts. They were the only things he had worth holding on to.

* * *

Harry passed the rest of the evening in peace, doing a report for Snape on the benefits and dangers of pennyroyal to the soundtrack of Dudley and his friends' muffled laughter.

By about eleven o'clock or so, Harry began to hear the sounds of partings and doors slamming that could only mean people leaving.

"Finally," Harry breathed. "I'm only stuck with one in the house."

To be honest though, he'd have much preferred it if the one remaining person had been Gordon, or Malcolm if he could have come. They were rotten to the core, but at least they were just mean and stupid, much like Crabbe and Goyle. Piers was…well…different. Through no spoken agreement that Harry knew of, he'd become the leader of Dudley's group. It wasn't surprising: Piers had gotten very cunning over time, mainly since last year, preferring blackmail and tricks to petty bullying and stealing. He was also the type who made you want to scrub yourself raw after so much as a glance by him. Just what had made him that much worse in a year? Harry was curious but less than inclined to go and ask the boy.

What Harry did instead was get ready for bed. After checking the hallway to see if anyone was about, he scurried to the bathroom, finished up, and scurried back to his room where he changed and got into bed.

* * *

His sleep was heavy and dreamless, as it usually was as of late. Harry had expected to endure a summer full of nightmares about Sirius and Voldemort, but there had only been one, the night after coming home. Since then there had been only a few ordinary dreams he forgot within moments of waking. It was refreshing, but Harry didn't let himself believe it would last.

From the depths of Harry's slumber came an invisible hand, jerking him awake as if it were urgent. He lay there in a moment of disorientation and panic before opening his eyes. They were promptly shut as Harry flinched away from the sight before him.

Harry may have been seeing things, but he could have sworn there was someone sitting on the end of his bed. Nervously he looked again, only to see the same sight. He gasped, feeling around for his wand.

"Don't get many nighttime guests, do you?" a male voice taunted. "Can't say I'm surprised, people only tend to visit bloke's rooms because they want some fun, and you wouldn't know anything about _that_ kind of fun."

"What're you doing here Piers?" Harry mumbled, still sleepy.

"Just wanted to find out how my dear classmate from Saint Brutus was doing." There was a false cheerfulness to his tone.

Harry's mind took a moment to catch up.

"You make it sound like you go there. But don't you go to Smeltings?"

Harry flipped on the lamp so this experience would be at least slightly less disconcerting.

Piers looked so comfortable it was as if he were a part of the bed. He had one leg stretched across the length of the comforter, the other hanging the edge. As he was wearing nothing but a pair of navy boxers and a disturbingly wolfish grin (very peculiar looking on a face that slightly resembled a rat's), Harry had to divert his eyes to avoid getting a glimpse of something he'd rather not.

"Oh I did until the day I made that little offer to one of the boys; either I beat him up everyday after school or he does me…_favours_. I thought it could be much more fun than violence, a nice change of pace, but the fucker went and told the headmistress. She didn't know what to do with me and was so horrified that she shipped me off to St. Brutus.

"I kept expecting to run into you, but amazingly I never did. Of course, you always were a little mouse, running and hiding from everyone. But surely even you couldn't stay hidden for an entire year, could you?"

His bright eyes glinted with malice.

"Well it's a big school, it's likely we simply never crossed paths," Harry fibbed whilst praying the school was in fact big.

In a flash, Piers lurched forward until his arms were at either side of Harry's head, his face merely a metre away, if that. To make things worse Harry realised the boy was straddling him.

Regarding Harry hatefully, he snarled, "There are fifteen fifth year students in the entire school! Does that sound big to you?"

Harry felt himself wither under the glare. Piers may have been slightly shorter and smaller than he was, but when the boy was close enough for Harry to smell his breath (minty), he was rather intimidating.

"No, it doesn't."

Piers leaned back, sneering and crossing his arms.

"Well then, any chance you'll tell me where the hell you were?"

Harry tried to avoid giving too much away or revealing the name.

"I go to some boarding school in Scotland. The Dursleys don't like the fact that it's more prestigious than Smeltings, so they say I go to St. Brutus'."

"Yes, I can certainly see the Dursleys spending thousands a year for you to steal their son's glory. God, and I thought the St. Brutus story was implausible!"

With a shrug, Harry tried to sound casual. "I got a full scholarship."

"Ha! Who'd give a little twerp like you a full scholarship?"

Harry was beginning to get irritated. Still, he kept up the lying like a pro.

"Hogwarts, that's who! Back in primary school, I managed to pick up a few school brochures when I went downtown to the library. I filled out what I could for the scholarship application and got Vernon and Petunia to sign it. They didn't want to, but I told them if it was accepted they wouldn't have to pay a cent, just as they wouldn't if I went to go to state school. Plus it was all the way out of the country. They agreed but told me I'd be going to the state school if it fell through and they had to pay anything."

Only after finishing his story did Harry realise he'd given the school's name.

"That might be at least somewhat plausible if you'd used a realistic name. It's so obvious you made that up."

"I did not make the name up," Harry stated calmly. "And please get off me."

Leering, Piers shifted so he was lying beside Harry, one leg pressed between Harry's legs.

Harry shot him a look of blatant displeasure and annoyance but Piers ignored it.

"I do wish you were at St. Brutus. It's always the scrawny bookworms that turn out to be the most fun, wild and loud."

Piers' hand roamed under Harry's t-shirt. Disgusted, Harry snatched the hand away. By now, he wasn't so much intimidated by Piers as unnerved.

The boy chuckled.

"Oh yes, and they always put up such a fight, no matter how much they want it. I'll bet you've never done anything with a bloke, have you?"

Harry untangled himself from Piers and got to his feet.

"You don't do this with Dudley, do you?"

Piers' cool façade cracked as his face scrunched up in disgust.

"I don't always have the highest standards, _obviously_." He looked at Harry disapprovingly. "But I'd never be desperate enough to shag Dudley. That's just revolting. I'll leave that hideous task to Mona, for as long as she lasts."

"Which isn't long," commented Harry under his breath. Suddenly he caught sight of something shiny from the corner of his eye.

"So, does Mummy know about those?" Harry nodded at the two small golden rings adorning Piers' nipples.

Piers snorted.

"What do you think? I made a guy steal his mother's pair of 14k earrings over Christmas break and after term resumed, one day I cut class and pierced these with a sterile needle and ice. They have some definite perks, believe me."

Harry instinctively hugged his chest, flinching at the idea of such a grisly act.

"How could you have come from a classy upper middle-class family and become…_this_?"

Piers smirked for what seemed the millionth time.

"Gotta escape the boredom somehow. You spend a year at that damned school, you'll see what I mean. It's even worse than Smeltings where everyone but Malcolm and Gordon thought they were better than me and Dudley. Everyone feared us in primary, but at Smeltings we were nothing for years. I had to fight to get where I am and I'm proud that I've finally earned some respect and power."

"And where are you Piers? You're a conniving, masochistic slapper who got thrown out of a proper school and landed in a reform school/nuthouse. You're either going to end up as a mob boss, a pimp, or a drug lord, nothing respectable."

Piers slid off the bed and stood, glowering.

"You know, just because I don't waste my free time doing stupid things like playing chess and studying doesn't mean I'm a delinquent! Yes, I cut classes that one day, but that was it! I work just as hard at St. Brutus as I did at Smeltings. I may not make school my life, but I take it damned seriously. I do have ambition, real ambition. So don't you make any judgements about me!"

This git was worse than Malfoy! Harry didn't know anyone short of Voldemort could be worse than Malfoy.

Harry stepped slightly closer to the incensed boy before him, feeling equally riled.

"Please, enlighten me about this _real_ ambition. Because I can't see anyone wanting to hire an undergrown rat like you."

"I will get out of that hellhole, go to university, go to med school, and become a coroner. I've wanted this since I was twelve and nothing will stop me from getting it. There's just something so fascinating about the process of death." Piers appeared completely serious about this dream of his.

Harry took another step closer, trying not to be nauseated by this explanation.

"I'm sure the admissions boards will just love your criminal record."

Piers was his haughty self again. "I don't have one and I won't have one. I don't do anything that can get my hands dirty anymore. Yes, I may manipulate others into doing my bidding, but they're always people who consider me a friend. They like the rewards they receive, and the honour of being associated with me."

This was Draco Malfoy under the Polyjuice potion, surely.

"And what an honour _that_ is! Honestly, the presence of you is awe-inspiring, right up there with meeting God himself."

Harry dropped the falsely adoring tone. "You, Piers, are a deity only in your own mind. Some of us see you for the swotty little prat you are and would be delighted to be deprived of your presence. So please, crawl back into your rat hole and let me get back to sleep."

"Only if I can join you," Piers murmured, flicking the tip of his tongue over Harry's earlobe. Harry jumped away, disgusted.

"You're just revolting, you know that? I'm not one of your fairy friends from school. I won't be won over by your molestations. In fact, I'll just want to be rid of you more. I'm not the least bit interested in lads, and if I were you wouldn't be my type. I could never see myself attracted to someone who'd paw me like a puppy in puberty. I'd want someone slow and seductive. Not that it matters, since I don't even fancy lads."

This wasn't good, not at all. Harry always managed to say far too much. Beyond those slight twinges he got in his stomach first year with Oliver and later with Cedric, he'd never had any feelings towards males. And those weren't even crushes. With Oliver it was just short-lived admiration, and with Cedric it was just jealousy for being with Cho. As for this jittery sensation Piers was giving him, it was anger and anxiety. After all, the boy was trying to get in his trousers!

Piers had his arms crossed, a self-satisfied grin spread across his face.

"Gee, it must be that complete lack of homosexual tendencies that's causing you to blush like mad. I'll bet you've never even snogged anyone who wasn't female, if that."

"I have snogged a girl before," Harry insisted. He failed to acknowledge the other half of that accusation.

"And no one male, I knew it! You really need to; the experience is quite a bit stronger than with girls. It's far more exciting, more erotic." Piers winked and Harry felt like crawling out of his skin.

"I wouldn't know. But I could be bloody sure it wouldn't be with you. The mere thought is revolting."

It wasn't until Harry saw the glittering in Piers' eyes that he realised the error in his words.

"You know, all I did was tell you kissing boys was great fun, I hadn't suggested you try it with me. But obviously you still gave the idea some thought."

Harry moved away from the boy and sat down against the closet door, making sure to keep his expression unflappable.

"No, I just knew you'd eventually try to snog me. That nasty ear licking was a definite warning sign."

Piers came to sit beside him. A silence fell over the two and Piers appeared to calm a bit.

"Besides you, a few other boys, and the headmistress of Smeltings, no one knows about me," remarked Piers pensively. "There are only six people out there who have found out I'm gay. Not even Dudley and his minions know. Mona kept giving me suspicious looks across the table tonight whenever I mentioned boys at school, but I'm not sure she knows.

"I thought I'd try my hand at propositioning you to find out if you were the same, or at least bisexual. Not that I'd care, I just thought it would make for an interesting night."

Piers sighed tiredly and examined the room.

"Why do you put up with the shit everyone here gives you? If I had to live your pathetic life at home, I'd run away and never look back. Either that or kill myself. Surely you have someone you could go live with."

For the millionth time that summer, Harry thought of Sirius.

"I did until this spring," said Harry with bitterness. "But let's just say that option is no longer available to me. It's only one more summer though, just two months after next spring. The second I'm out of school I'm finding other living arrangements."

Harry risked a glance at Piers. Instead of his earlier leering expression, he face was contemplative, his head slighter lowered so a few locks of dark hair framed his small face. Harry watched him until the other boy caught him, his blue eyes staring into Harry's green ones. Harry quickly turned away, trying not to look guilty.

"Look Harry, you don't think anything more of me than I do of you, so it's not like either of us are ever going to talk about what could go on tonight or, hopefully, what will go on tonight. It's not as if I'd want to brag to Dudley or anyone about it. And none of my friends at school even know about you and vice versa."

Piers leaned against the closet door, sliding his leg over enough to touch Harry's.

"And those who do know us wouldn't even believe it if they were told," added Harry. For some reason he kind of enjoyed the feeling of Piers' skin against his.

"Of course not," Piers agreed. "After all, I'm straight and can't stand the sight of you; just like you are."

Nervously Harry placed a hand on Piers' leg, wondering why he was doing so. Piers followed suit, skimming Harry's leg until his hand rested just below the hem of Harry's boxers.

Harry blushed and suddenly recognised just why he was so jittery around Piers. It wasn't just because Piers was trying to get in his trousers; it was because Harry liked the idea!

"So no one will _ever_ know." There was strength in Harry's voice that held a bit of a warning.

"Nope, never in a million years." Piers moved his hand further up Harry's thigh, eyes not leaving Harry's face.

In the second shocking realisation of the evening, Harry found that he rather liked Piers' face. His pointed features had softened over the years to give him a somewhat flatteringly striking countenance. Piers hadn't really come out of his awkward phase yet, but you could tell he would soon.

Harry cupped Piers' cheek timidly, tracing the boy's lip with his thumb. Piers merely waited, obviously expecting Harry to advance things.

Harry slowly moved towards the boy, pressing his lips against Piers' hesitantly. He felt a hand cup the back of his head as the mouth against his opened and a tongue buried itself deep into Harry's mouth.

Harry jerked away before it could make its way far enough inside to evoke his gagging reflex.

"You know, I had no idea you'd be THAT confident. In fact I wish you weren't, it's far less than romantic."

Piers narrowed his eyes.

"From the way you talk I assumed you'd had heaps of experience, but apparently not if you think people like being kissed that way. Honestly Piers, how many people have you kissed anyway?"

"More than you," Piers shot back.

Harry wouldn't let it rest. "How many?"

Piers attempted a menacing glare but upon realising it wouldn't do any good, he sagged.

"If you must know, two. One male, one female. Neither had been kissed before so they seemed fine with my technique."

He looked so ruffled and abashed that Harry took pity on him.

"Well you just need to be a lot less sudden and…forceful. Just relax and take it slow, enjoy yourself."

_You know, I would have never guessed I'd ever be having this conversation and advising Piers Polkiss of all people on snogging!_

Piers became quite flushed and busied himself with smoothing the hems on his boxers. Harry decided it was time to change tracks.

"So, are you seeing anyone at school?"

The corners of Piers' mouth turned up of their own volition.

"Yeah, Eddie. He'll be a fourth year come September. He's such an anxious little thing. The only reason they shipped him off to St. Brutus is because the regular schools were too incompetent to deal with him. The fact that he never spoke to anyone and occasionally cut himself seemed to scare them. And his parents were so embarrassed by his behaviour that they and the Smeltings headmistress all decided to ship him off to Brutus, since they deal with 'emotionally problematic boys' along with us 'criminals'."

"What's he like?"

"Nervous! Whenever we sneak off together he's always terrified someone will see us and I'll get in trouble. Why he cares I'll never understand."

"Uh, you haven't done too much with him I hope. I mean he's only thirteen!"

Piers gave a melodramatic sigh and eye roll.

"No I haven't, Mother. But not for moralistic reasons so much as the fact that he's not that good at the things we do try and he sure as hell wouldn't be able to handle _that_. And neither would I." The last sentence was said quite quickly and under his breath.

"Now that I'd agree with!"

Piers shot Harry another nasty look.

"You know, if your pride isn't wounded too much, we could always pick up where we left off," suggested Harry, regarding Piers' piercings with interest that surprised him.

Piers was coy. "Perhaps, but this time I'm making you take the lead, if only so I don't have to endure your carping about my kissing style."

Harry smiled, brushing a lock of hair out of the boy's eyes.

"Deal."

**The End**


End file.
